Dancing in the Dark
by abovetheruins
Summary: After an accident leaves them both crippled, Edward and Alphonse must rely on each other to survive. Edward/Alphonse ON HIATUS


**Notes: **This idea's been swimming around in my head for ages, so I'm glad to finally start working on it. As it is my first Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction (and an Elricest one at that), I'm a bit nervous about posting it. I welcome any constructive criticism readers may have.

**Title:** Dancing in the Dark

**Pairing:** Edward/Alphonse (Elricest)

**Part:** 1/?

**Rating:** T (for now)

**Warnings:** AU (Alternate Universe) I am trying to stick w/ the original storyline when it comes to the characters and their relationships w/ each other. Everything else, however, has been twisted to fit my whims. Incest in later chapters

**Disclaimer:** This is purely fictional and I own nothing. I gain no profit from writing this other than my own enjoyment.

**Summary: **After an accident leaves them both crippled, Edward and Alphonse must rely on each other to survive.

**Dancing in the Dark**

--

The first thing he remembers is pain.

A searing, white-hot burn boils beneath his skin; his arm and leg feel like they're on fire. There's no room to think, no room to breathe against the pain. He can't move; if he tries, he knows his limbs will tear apart. They'll break into a thousand pieces. After all, he reasons, this blinding pain can only mean one thing, that his body is falling apart.

There's a feeling at the back of his mind, a foggy sensation that keeps slipping away. There's someone, someone he's supposed to...supposed to find. Someone he's supposed to protect. The dreamy sensation of a small hand clutched in his surfaces past the haze of pain; for a moment he can feel it, tries to squeeze it against his own palm but cannot move his fingers.

His mind begins to clear. He struggles to remember, to recall anything about where he is and what has happened, but nothing is coming. Within brief moments of clarity he can smell a burnt, coppery scent. He can even vaguely hear the crunch of metal. Yet his mind will not shake off the haze; he feels what little strength he has begin to leave him.

As the darkness creeps within his vision, he can almost feel that tiny hand slipping out of his hold; but sleep finally overtakes him, and he can feel no more.

-

When he awakes, it is to the blinding white light of a too bright bulb and the crisp, sharp smell of antiseptics. It takes him a few painful, dizzying moments to realize that he's in a hospital, and another terrifying second to realize he's alone.

"...A-ah." His throat feels like sandpaper; it burns when he tries to speak, feels like it's been scratched raw.

'What happened to me?'

His body feels strange, heavy, like it's weighed down with stones. He can't feel anything, can't move his fingers or toes. He feels completely numb.

His golden eyes are bright with fear and confusion; his ten-year old mind can't comprehend what exactly is going on. The last thing he remembers is sitting in the back of the car, watching the scenery go by out the window. He can remember music playing on the radio, the volume low, and his mother's soft voice singing. He can remember a head nestled against his shoulder, warm breaths tickling his collarbone. He can remember a small hand clasped in his own.

He struggles to move his arm, eyes growing wide and suddenly desperate. Where is everyone? He needs help, needs somebody to tell him what's wrong, what's happened, tell him where-

"Edward!"

His struggles cease in pure shock as his eyes snap to the door. Winry stands on the threshold, her eyes so wide in her face that all he can see is blue. Her hands clench in her yellow sundress and she is white as a sheet, trembling, shaking, as though she's freezing. The expression on her face scares him more than the confusion, more than the numbness.

"Winry," he croaks, his lips trembling. "What happened...?" He moves to sit up, tries to use his arms to lift himself into a sitting position. Something catches his eyes, a bulky white mass on his right side. He turns his head to stare down at his shoulder in bewilderment, golden eyes widening upon the sickening realization that there is...nothing. Nothing is there. His right arm is gone.

"W-what...?" He must be dreaming, he reasons, a numb sort of chill running through his body. His body begins to shake. "I-I...I'm dreaming, right?"

He looks over at Winry, trembling in the doorway. Her eyes are huge in her ashen face, so blue and frightened. Tears brim in his eyes; he feels them slide down his cheeks in large, salty drops. "Tell me!" he cries, his voice hoarse and pleading. Winry jumps and curls into the doorway, looking as if she wants nothing more than to flee from the room but trying so hard not to move. For some reason, this makes him so angry. Why won't she say anything? This is just a dream, right?

And a dream can be controlled, can't it? Some part of his mind tells him that yes, he can control this. It's just a dream. He can wake himself up, open his eyes to see the walls of his room, wrapped in his sheets where nothing is wrong.

In a flurry of movement he wrenched the scratchy white sheet from his body. The sudden movement startles Winry so much that she screams, fingers gripping the door frame so hard her knuckles turn white. He ignores her, watches the sheet flutter wildly for a moment before it drifts to the floor, his eyes falling, falling along with it until he can see the bulky white bandages wrapped around what remains of his left leg.

He screams.

He can hear Winry screaming along with him, her sobs nearly echoing the volume of his own. He can hardly believe the sounds coming from his mouth, animalistic, choking sobs that tear through his body like a knife. He can hear pounding footsteps from the hall, can hear rustling noises coming from the other side of the room, can hear Winry's own sobs growing louder and louder, but he just can't stop screaming long enough to care.

"...ther...?"

A tiny voice tears through the room, through his screams. His wild eyes trace the room, trying to find it's source. He knows he should recognize that voice.

Suddenly there are arms all around him, hands pushing at his shoulders and his right leg, which is moving all on its own, kicking at those trying to get close. Voices swim in his ears, confusing him. He still can't stop screaming.

"Calm down! You need to calm down, Edward!" The voices continue to urge him, but he doesn't listen to them. He searches the room as they push him down, seeing the fluttering white curtain that divides the room, the faint outline of another bed.

"...Brother?!"

That voice, clear as a bell, cuts through the haze surrounding his mind. His arm reaches out, past the throng of shoulders and arms cloaked in white, towards the bed behind the curtain, which is rattling, being swept aside.

He sees an pale arm clutching the flimsy curtain, a shoulder clad in the same white hospital gown he also wears. He sees a tousled head of auburn hair, a ashen face, lips twisted in pain, and oh, how his heart clenches at the misery he can see there.

His screaming has stopped; the sight before his eyes has torn his breath away. Bandages, the same awful, miserable white as everything else in this horrible place are wrapped around eyes he knows to be a clear, deep bronze. Tiny fingers scratch at them, trying to tear them away.

"Brother!" The voice is clogged with pain, and fear. The arms trying to hold him down have moved away, as shocked by the sight as he is. He reaches his arm out, trying to ignore the tingling, nagging feeling that his other arm is still there when it's_ not_, fingers finding purchase in the other boy's -his brother's, his baby brother's-stiff, white gown. He pulls and pulls until his arm can wrap around his brother's shoulders, breath rushing past his lips in painful gasps. Everything hurts so damn much.

"I can't see!" Fingers tear through the thick gauze, pulling at the strands wrapped around his brother's head. "Brother, help me! I can't see! I-I can't..."

"Alphonse." Footsteps approach the bed, a large hand falling between them, trying to separate them. "You shouldn't remove the bandages yet."

He smacks the hand away, his fingers moving to help, removing the wrappings as quick as his shaking hand will allow. They fall in tattered clumps to the bed; he tries not to look at them, knowing he will only see one limb where there should be two.

His heart stops as eyelids part to reveal bronze eyes, his body frozen. Every finger on his left hand goes numb; he brushes them around his brother's eyes, lips trembling as he tries to hold fresh tears at bay.

"A-Alphonse." He can't believe the sight before his eyes, prays to whatever will listen that this is still just a dream, that it's not true.

Sightless eyes stare back at him, a smokey fog shrouding once bright bronze eyes so that they look almost white.

He can feel fingers clenching in his gown, hears a small voice so soaked with fear that it breaks his heart into pieces.

"I can't see."

**Ending Note: **Thus begins 'Dancing in the Dark'. We're in for a wild ride. :P

If you enjoyed this (especially if you end up putting it on your fav or alert list) please review! It takes, what, a handful of seconds? I'd like to know what readers think of this, after all.


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